


An Announcement

by itdefiesimagination



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Broadcast Format, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 06:30:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5037487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itdefiesimagination/pseuds/itdefiesimagination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A big announcement. Really huge. Plus, today's horoscopes and some home and garden tips from the Homeowner's Association for a Better Night Vale. Weather: "Take Us Alive" by Other Lives</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Announcement

Don’t look under your bed tonight. It’s not worth the effort. Why waste time and adrenaline fearing a creature that feels the need to hide from you? As the old adage goes, it’s probably more afraid of you than you are of it!

If there _is_ something in your room worth being scared of, it will be eight feet tall and eyeless. You will definitely, definitely see it, and it will definitely, definitely see you.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Oh, this is unprofessional. This is so unprofessional, and I wouldn’t dream of bringing it up if it weren’t of such vital importance to our community and to me, personally. But . . .

_But . . ._

Oh, I can’t.

I am a journalist and it is common knowledge that a journalist must be more invested in the lives of others than he is in his own. 

For example, if Sandra McSutton is having _her_ Thanksgiving dinner at the same time the journalist is having _his_ Thanksgiving dinner, the journalist must drop everything and bring a bottle of wine over to Sandra’s place so as to report on her ‘exciting new tricks for deep-frying turkey legs and also human legs.’ 

The journalist must bring the bottle of wine so as not to appear intrusive or rude. The journalist must do this even if he _feels_ like being both intrusive _and_ rude. He must do this even if he has a green bean casserole in the oven. Even if he has a boyfriend waiting at home, waiting by the oven, waiting for the casserole. Even if his boyfriend is expecting a Thanksgiving dinner. Even if that boyfriend offered to cook this year, but the journalist refused, saying such (hypothetical) things as ‘No, no’ and ‘I’ve definitely, 100% got this’ and ‘No distractions, no interruptions. None at all. No Sandra McSutton at all, Carlos.’ 

Even if it comes at the cost of his own personal desires, or his own personal concerns, or his own personal well-being, a journalist must do what best serves the story. Under pain of certain death or - I shudder to think - unemployment, a journalist must do this. 

So here, with reluctance and poorly bridled excitement, is the news. 

Last night, the City Council tabled an ordinance that would ban all small talk in Night Vale. Should the measure pass, such stock phrases as “How are you?” and “Alright, thanks” and, most notably, the popular “Pretty warm out for this time of year, right?” would be declared illegal in order to make room for more productive conversation.

“Mindless pleasantries, stalling, and all similar water-cooler talk should be deemed strictly off-limits. These things annoy us,” the City Council explained, adding “Like, when someone asks you ‘hey, how’s it going?’ you don’t actually tell that person how it’s going. You say _good_ or _great_ or _alright_ , even if you’re not feeling good or great or alright at all. Odds are, you’re feeling lousy. When was the last time you told the truth when a friend asked you about your day? Probably never.” 

Then, in a single voice that issued from a dozen separate mouths, the Council adjourned the town hall meeting with a “See you later - er, no, talk to you soon - shoot - have a good -- _ugh_. Climate change is real and it’s killing our planet . . . or whatever.” 

And now, today’s horoscopes. 

Aries: What time did you go to bed last night? Was it late? There are bags under your eyes, Aries. There are bags under your bed, too. There are bags in the cabinets below your sink, and in your garbage can, and in the alley behind your apartment. There are bags, tented in familiar, fleshy shapes, filled with familiar liquids – dark, viscous liquids. There are bags everywhere, and they are starting to smell, and you think maybe you ought to have thrown them in the river like you planned, back before this was blood on your hands, back when you thought you had nothing to lose, back when this was all just an idea.

There are bags beneath your eyes. What did you do last night, Aries? What did you _do_?

Gemini: If a tree falls in the forest and there’s no one there to hear it, don’t be rude! Stop to help it up! If a _child_ fell in the forest and there was no one there to hear it, would you leave the child lying face down? In the forest? Alone? On the _ground_? No! The stars didn’t think so. 

Sagittarius: Don’t. 

Scorpio: We get it! You met Neil Patrick Harris and he was just as funny and good looking in person. You got his autograph. Great. Okay. Look. Once you tell a story, you don’t keep bringing it up! That’s just good party etiquette. You tell a story once, maybe twice if it’s really something, and then you let it go. After a while, people start to get bored! I mean, no one likes Neil Patrick Harris - star of the hit television sitcom ‘How I Got Your Mother to Finally, Finally Come Down From the Roof’ - _that_ much, especially now that you’ve met him. No one cares, Steve! No one cares!

Aquarius: It’s time for you to get in shape! The human body is soooo over. Try dissembling and reconstructing your own atoms into something more fashionable, more exciting, like a circle! Or a parallelogram! Or a rectangular prism! Clothes will be harder to put on, but the stars promise it’ll be worth it. 

Capricorn: The stars recommend that you wear a blue shirt tomorrow. They didn’t say why, nor did they specify the exact shade of blue your shirt should be, but they were pretty insistent that it be a blue shirt of some sort or another. The stars also suggest you put that money in a trash bag, toss the trash bag over the side of a bridge, undergo facial reconstruction surgery, cut your hair, change your license plate, and get the hell out of town. 

Virgo: Best avoid Gemini today, Virgo. In fact, best avoid everyone. That rash looks super contagious. 

Pisces: Your inner light is sure to attract many friends. Just take care it doesn’t become an outer light - so bright, bright, shining from your eyes, and your mouth, and your nostrils, and from every pore of your golden, glowing body. All would look upon you and scream in agony and in rapture. And then all would run from you, fleeing over hills and under brush. They would be pilgrims in reverse, seeking solace in shadows your light was sure to never reach. And then these pilgrims - friends, you once called them, friends who once looked upon you and smiled - would forget, or would die, and all memory of you would be lost to loss. It would lonely, wouldn’t it, Pisces? To be a god, but to be worshiped by none. To be so visible as to be _in_ visible. The stars know how it feels to shine, Pisces. Take care. Take care. 

Taurus: Maybe stop channel surfing during commercial breaks. It stresses the stars out, because they start to worry that you’re not going to flip back in time. The stars would really rather not miss part of their show. Commercials aren’t that long, Taurus . . . 

Cancer: You sometimes find it hard to open up to people. The stars suggest you start with an incision just above your kidneys and go from there. 

Leo: Did you know fresh snow absorbs sound? Well, you do now! Sure, this is more of a fact than a horoscope, and the stars know that people hate those, but they figured they should lead off with this small disappointment so as to lessen the impact of the _big_ disappointment. The stars are saving that one for tomorrow. 

And now, some Home and Garden Tips, brought to you by the Homeowner’s Association for a Better Night Vale. 

There is a porch attached to a house attached to a name attached to a family attached to lives linked in ways that go unmentioned and unrealized. The porch is sunken and shaded by an overhung roof. The house has an overhung roof. The name is easy to pronounce. The family has benefited from this financially, whether they know it or not. The lives are full of the sort of discontent that is manufactured in the absence of actual hardship.

The porch is curtained by high, black mosquito netting. The house is a single-story, and I am telling it now. The name is arbitrary. The family thinks this name is meaningful. The lives are equal parts arbitrary and meaningful, which would confuse the family if they knew, so this is something they try very hard not to know.

It is humid and hot out on the porch. The house is back-lit by a red sun and surrounded by miles of dry brown cotton fields, surrounded by miles of late evening sky. The name has seven letters. Sometimes, the family sits out on the porch, but not tonight. The lives are short and humid and hot.

This has been: Home and Garden Tips, brought to you by the Homeowner’s Association for a Better Night Vale.

The Homeowner’s Association would also like to remind you that they’re nice guys, and that they asked you to take down your trampoline because it was an eyesore, not because they wanted to prevent you or your family from having fun!

“We’re definitely not stacking these trampolines on top of one another to see if the number of trampolines exponentially increases the height of the bounce! That would be ridiculous, and we’re not planning that!” shouted one Association Member from the top of a five-tiered trampoline. 

He continued, “The ban on trampolines is for the good our constituents and their property values!” before yelling “Hey, check this out!” and attempting a front flip.

Witnesses insisted that the Association Member could definitely do a front flip yesterday, so they’re not quite sure why he’s having so much trouble with it now. To which the Association Member responded: “I’m just really tired today. All of us H.O.A. guys are working overtime to make this trampoline thing happen. Also, have you ever done a front flip? No? Well, I have. So calm down, maybe.”

Okay. 

Okay, I’m sorry, I was going to wait until the end of the broadcast, but I just have to say something. I think it’s only right you should know, seeing as you - Night Vale - have been with us from the very beginning. We’ve made a home here. You’ve made us a home here, and now, Carlos and I want you all to know that we’re --

_[A few seconds of static, followed by a rumble of thunder, followed by an alarm: two short beeps, followed by one long beep. An automated voice crackles through.]_

_We interrupt this program bring you a Severe[Weather](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLsUzVuQpEo) Alert._

 

 

\-- and we want you all to be there! There’ll be good food, and good music, and everyone will be dressed in their finest tuxedos, and ballgowns, and snap bracelets, and catcher’s masks. 

I honestly can’t think of a better way to celebrate a day like this - a day I’ll remember for . . . well, forever, probably - than to spend it with my friends and family, with the man I love, and with you Night Vale. With you. 

Dinner will be served at 5:30 PM. As per tradition, from 7:00 to 9:00 PM we will, all of us dressed in our formal wear, sit by the front door and wait for young children to ring our doorbell so that they might offer us candy and the occasional, underwhelming bag of pretzels before moving on with youthful spring to the next house. 

That is, of course, how these things are done!

Stay tuned next for a secret code presented as a series of seemingly innocuous sports radio broadcasts, and remember! Join us October 31st for the first annual Palmer-Scientist Halloween party! 

RSVP by cornering me in the alleyway behind the station, accosting me at gunpoint and demanding I give you my wallet, before pulling off your ski mask and shouting ‘just kidding, Cecil! I’m coming to your party! Why are you crying?’ 

Or you can e-mail me at cpalmer@nvcradio.secretgov. 

I look forward to hearing from all of you, but until then: goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight.

**Author's Note:**

> Today's Proverb: Anyone interested in a mutual, platonic bond? I'm asking for a friend.


End file.
